


Dust in the Wind

by Endangered_Slug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Also there's some mention of suicidal ideation, Avengers Crossover, Because I feel like this should have been a thing last May, But really has anyone written this yet?, Definitely AU, F/M, Happy Ending for all, How've y'all been anyway?, I feel like that could have been a dart game, It's really minor, Just your usual pining and missing someone thing that you get from me, Some angst, Sort Of, also hey finding another first name for Mr. Gold was fun, because it's me who's writing it, but I'm kind of out of the loop in this fandom, but just in case you want more pining and missing someone, but not a lot, but nothing too heavy, here's another, honestly if you've read one thing I've written, one of these days the grammar police are going to come and arrest me, you've read them all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21747349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endangered_Slug/pseuds/Endangered_Slug
Summary: Thanos snapped his fingers and half the universe’s population disappeared including that of the sleepy town of Storybrooke, Maine.A bit of an expanded Marvel universe if you will. Minor spoilers for Avengers: Infinity War and Endgame -- though really, if you haven’t seen them by now then does it really matter if you get spoiled or not?
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 13
Kudos: 29





	Dust in the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> *waves* Hi there! How've you been? Things are good? Hope so! So, this story idea has been bugging me since the summer, but you know how lazy I am. Anyway, *ta-da hands*:

**Storybrooke, Maine - 2018**

The morning sun broke through the rain-swollen clouds, shimmering off the damp streets of Storybrooke as if it had been paved with a thousand diamonds. The air was still damp from the night’s storm, but the oppressive heaviness had lifted in the early morning hours and now the clean, fresh scent of a new day greeted the citizens of the sleepy town.

Up on the hill, in a large pink house, Benjamin Gold’s eyelids fluttered as a shaft of sunlight found a gap in the curtains and hit him square in the face. He squinched up his eyes and turned away from the piercing light, snuggling up under the covers a bit more, seeking out the delicious warmth that seemed to radiate from his left side, but, try as he might to get back to his contented slumber, something was poking at his subconscious telling him to wake up.

It was the dip in the mattress that finally did it. The strange dip and the accompanying warmth that he’d been unconsciously seeking just a bit ago. Well, the strange dip, the accompanying warmth, the small, delicate hand pressed up against his hip and the hank of hair that threatened to suffocate him in his sleep.

Gold smelled wildflowers.

He cracked an eye open, dimly aware that he may be still dreaming, but the sight of Belle French curled up against him, her head in the crook of his shoulder and her hair spread out like a mermaid’s sent his poor heart into his throat. He must be still dreaming and, if that was the case, then he’d just have to stay in bed for the rest of his life because nothing, _nothing_ in the world could be better than having Belle French snuggled up to him.

And then he realized that her soft breasts were pressed up against him -- that they were both very much naked and he could feel every inch of her so he had to amend his last thought because a _naked_ Belle French snuggled up to him was infinitely better than anything he could think of, including lasting intergalactic peace.

And then he remembered. Last night. It was the end of the world. Again.

The dire news on all the TV channels. The spotty reports of superheroes finally figuring their shit out and yet another alien invasion threatening Earth. The Hulk falling like a meteorite after being missing for years playing on a loop in the corner of every broadcast because a giant green man falling from space was pretty much a weekly thing now and was nothing compared to Captain America showing up in Edinburgh -- of all places -- according to a couple of grainy CCTV feeds and why _that_ bit of news beat out Giant Green Rage Monster Falling From Space, Gold wasn’t exactly sure, but the conspiracy theorists were having a field day with, quite literally, all of it.

Then, Tony Stark went missing, which was strange because he was usually smack in the middle of _everything_ , but it looked like he was gone for good this time and, according to the news reports, the End of the World 4.0 was happening down in Wakanda. _Wakanda_! Who knew? There were purple people, green people, rock people, lizard people all appearing and disappearing like fireflies in a summer meadow and it was impossible to tell who was good and who was bad and no one was in charge and everything was so bewildering that, when the storm finally took out the electricity, Gold was grateful for the mental break.

Honestly, except for the relatively new presence of Wakanda as a world player, it all seemed like just another Tuesday.

Gold went about lighting the candles he kept at the ready ever since the first alien invasion all those years ago when New York was nearly destroyed and the entire Eastern seaboard went dark for a month. He’d just settled himself into his chair by the fire with a legal pad in one hand and a pen in the other because whenever there was a world event happening the people of Storybrooke went crazy bananapants and he had to formulate a plan to forestall the inevitable power grab the mayor would try to pull off. He’d managed to jot down a few important items when there was a frenzied pounding at the front door, startling him out of his wits.

He cast the legal pad aside and hauled himself out of the chair, grabbing the iron poker from the hearth because someone pounding on his door in the middle of _this_ crisis and _that_ storm boded ill. But it wasn’t an intruder he realized when he saw the silhouette through the fancy stained glass inserts in his front door. The fire iron clattered to the floor as he tore at the locks, throwing it open to reveal Belle French standing on his porch -- soaked through to the bone and shivering on his doormat.

He’d ushered her in, clucking like a grandma at the state of her all the while trying not to freak the fuck out because she’d left her place without a jacket and her clothes were plastered to her body, outlining everything he’d ever hoped to see, but that wasn’t even the point of it because her hair was sopping wet and dripping rivulets down her face and shoulders and into her already ruined clothes and she was freezing cold.

This realization led to a litany of scintillating bon mots such as, “What, did you walk up in this weather, dearie?”

And, “Let’s get you by the fire. No, no, here in this chair, I don’t mind the upholstery.”

And, one of his greatest fears, “Did someone hurt you?”

He fetched a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders tight, not letting go until she clutched at it was a trembling hand. Then he kneeled down to removed her boots (absolutely flooded -- what was she _thinking_?), rubbing at her icy feet until the blood got circulating again. He watched her face carefully as her lips went from blue to purple to that _perfect_ shade of pink which was the subject of quite a few of his fantasies. Not that he would ever in a million years admit that outloud to anyone. Ever.

Belle was silent as she warmed up, watching him the whole time with heavily lidded eyes and it wasn’t until her shivering went from hairless-chihuahua-on-crack to a soft tremble every so often that Gold felt he could relax.

“Was it the storm or the news that brought you?” he asked quietly because it _had_ to be one or the other. There _had_ to have been a reason for her just showing up. Belle had been inside his home plenty of times (the only person he invited up as of late to be honest), but she’d bravely stayed at her apartment during the Battle for New York and every crisis afterwards that he was shocked to see her on his doorstep tonight. He sat heavily on the footstool in front of her, his elbows on his knees, eyes never leaving her face.  
She blinked hard, squeezing her eyes shut, which sent a tremor of fear down Gold’s spine and another runnel of water down Belle’s face. She wasn’t crying, he realized with some relief as his heart unclenched to a more manageable level, but she wasn’t speaking either.

“You know you can trust me, Belle,” he told her softly, grabbing at her hand to press it between his. Her fingers were ice cold and, without thinking, he brought them to his mouth to blow on them.

Her blue eyes widened, and he realized what he was doing, but he’d already committed to warming her up. He blew again, his hot breath ghosting over her fingertips.

“B-b-ben,” she stammered out before swallowing and continuing on with obvious determination that was just so _Belle_ that Gold smiled.

“Ben,” she said again, firmly and with warmth in her eyes. “I just… I don’t know. I mean this could be _it_ you know?” She looked at him as if that would explain everything, but it just let him muddled in confusion.

He nodded his head because Belle was right. This could be _it_. At any moment aliens could disintegrate them with laser beams or another power-crazed madman could unleash some lab-grown hell army and maybe this time the heroes would be too late. It was something Gold normally tried to avoid thinking about. The idea of any of it was horrifyingly mind-blowing.

There had been so many _its_ in the past ten years that sometimes he wanted to just walk into the ocean until he floated away for good. The only thing that stopped him from ending it all was Belle. Which, yeah, he could see how that would look to anyone other than Belle or himself. It was more of a matter of you-had-to-be-there than anything he could ever explain -- not that anyone ever asked, mind you. But somehow, for some reason, they’d just been each other’s rocks during very hard times.

He’d thought Belle was doing okay. She’d told him earlier in the day that she’d gathered fresh supplies and was good for the duration -- or until at least next Thursday -- but, apparently, Belle had reached her limit and chose this moment to tell him about it.

Or not. Belle clamped her mouth shut once more.

He’d have been irritated if he wasn’t so worried about her.

At last, after their silent staring contest, Gold dropped their hands into his lap, squeezing her fingers in reassurance. “It’s too late and too crazy out there to send you home. You’re safe here.” Dear god he hoped that was true. “I’ll go… draw you a bath so you can warm up fully.”

Internally he winced. Draw her a bath? God, he hoped that maiden aunt was the new sexy.

Belle made to stand up, but before he could walk away, she was on him like a wildcat.

At least, that’s what he thought it was for a split second until he realized with an electric thrill that Belle was _kissing_ him. Wildcats certainly didn’t kiss and, if they did, they probably didn’t kiss like _this_. Like he was the only thing keeping Belle grounded on this planet. Like he meant something to her. Like she loved him.

Gold spent years in a fruitless effort to get over his crush on the sweet librarian until right about the time Ultron materialized. By then he understood there was no point in trying anymore and Gold had given it up for a lost cause, wallowing in the exquisite misery of unrequited love and feeling much older than his forty-three years. Forty-three wasn’t even old -- but _now_ there were superheroes and blue aliens and actual gods of freaking thunder traipsing around to absolutely throw the dating curve out of whack because, _now_ , standards were much higher than Gold could ever hope to achieve. _Now_ , it was all about abs and That Vee and powers and how many buses can you throw? It was impossible for mortals to compare.

It was all quite melodramatic and frankly, pitiful and cowardly, but, when it came to Belle, he discovered that all of his usual confidence faded away into nothing. He was so used to bottling his feelings up that trying to say something was impossible until he found himself almost enjoying the painful ache of being in love and never being able to act on it. Almost. Sometimes he psyched himself up enough to ask her out and a few times he even managed to produce actual words, but they were always the wrong words and, by the time he’d finished humiliating himself, he wound up fighting the urge to staple his tongue to his shoe.

How was he supposed to know she liked him _back_? He’d feel pretty stupid if he'd been capable of rational thought.

But, now, with the world ending once again, she’d wrapped her legs around him and, to his utter delight, started _climbing_.

He held her steady as she shimmied up, the blanket falling to the floor in a soggy heap as he pressed against her in an effort to get as close as humanly possible. Finally she was seated exactly where she wanted to be, with Gold’s hands firmly holding onto her ass while her small hands cupped the sides of his face while she kissed and kissed and _kissed_ him until they found themselves in front of Gold’s bedroom, where, not wanting to put Belle down or remove a hand from her rump, he simply kicked the door in.

So he was still being melodramatic. But, he had his arms full of a squirming Belle so he’d definitely won literally everything.

Then, it was all Belle. Belle on his bed, Belle on his tongue, Belle on his cock, her name lodged firmly in his mouth as he called it out in a litany as she performed her special brand of magic on him.

The world exploded around them, but this time, for the first time in nearly a decade, it was something beautiful.

And that’s how he found himself the next morning, staring in wonder at the woman in his arms, mystified that all that hadn’t been some sort of mental breakdown. He didn’t dream it, it was all real. Belle was real and she was really in his arms, in his bed, in his house, in his life.

Best. Day. Ever.

It was just as Gold was drifting back into a slow, drowsy slumber when Belle woke up, blinking her eyes at him with a soft smile on her face.

“I can’t believe that really happened,” she told him in a voice that was still foggy from sleep. “Finally.”

Gold leaned down to nuzzle her cheek with his nose, chuckling deep in his throat. “I was just thinking the same thing,” he said. “Finally.”

She brought a hand up and traced along his jaw, biting her lip at the scratchiness of his morning scruff and her eyes lit with wonder as she watched the way he took in a shivering breath at her caress before pulling him down for their first kiss of the day, her lips soft and pliant against his.

She smiled into it and, with more speed than he felt capable so early in the morning, swung her leg up and over until she was straddling him, diving back down to plant more kisses along his face and jaw and left ear until Gold was so overwhelmed that he could only hold on and let himself be ravaged by the fierce woman who decided to claim him. His lips met hers whenever they could but he found himself chasing her at every second, only making contact when she allowed him to. It was awkward and silly and Gold was utterly charmed by her and her joy and couldn’t wait until she’d exhausted herself so he could repay the kindness and show her exactly how much he appreciated her gifts.

At last, Belle settled down and took over his mouth, licking and nibbling at him until he was left a panting, groaning mess, but, judging by her own reactions, Belle liked it. A lot. Liked him. A _lot_.

It wasn’t until the small sound of distress Belle moaned into his mouth that Gold opened his eyes to see what had caused it, but Belle was still kissing him even as she looked at him, her eyes wide with bewilderment. He blinked once, trying to figure out why she was darkening around the edges. Was she sick? Gold tried to pull back to get a better look, but Belle instinctively followed him, her mouth almost clamped to his in desperation. One moment Belle was solid and warm in his arms, and the next, she was fading away. Disintegrating in his arms. Her pale skin slowly blackened and then began peeling away as if she’d been caught inside an inferno, bits of her crumbling beneath his hands until he screamed and screamed and screamed into her mouth.

This wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare. That had to be it. Any moment he’d wake up and Belle would be there right as rain, or at her home same as always and definitely not disappearing in his arms.

He clutched at her, trying to keep her with him, but there was no fighting it. No counter-curse he could wield even if he knew any to stop this from happening. Belle continued to wither away, large flakes soughing off like burnt paper in the wind until he was left with empty arms and a mouthful of ashes.

* * *

**Five Years Later….**

Benjamin Gold limped down the hill toward the town center, a gold topped cane in one hand and the other pulling a rusty red wagon which was filled to the brim with books. The wheels were squeaky and stuck every so often, but Gold had learned not to yank on the handle because that sent the books flying or the handle to snap off. Wheels were everywhere but handles and handle parts not so much. Supplies weren’t as plentiful as you’d think when half the population was gone. Half the population meant half the workforce and so he had to treat his possessions carefully. So, when the wheels stuck, Gold merely jiggled it a bit until they finally released or, if that failed, beat the damn thing with his cane until the wagon gave up its belligerence and continued its sole purpose in life, which was to supply the fifty or so bed-bound readers up at the hospital with books.

The cane was new courtesy of a bad fall that broke his ankle and what was left of his spirit. It happened three months After The Snap. He hadn’t been watching where he was going. He tripped. He fell. There was another snap, this one not nearly as devastating, but still pretty painful. He’d been lucky. It could have been his neck.

Too many accidents and not enough doctors, because of course all the doctors in town disappeared leaving only one overworked veterinarian to do all the work. At any rate, Gold’s ankle had to wait until after the safe delivery of a dalmation’s puppies and the gelding of Regina’s horse (of all people to not disappear, she was one of them). It had never really healed properly; hence, the cane.

The cane was new, but his suit and the ache in his heart were old, but he was hardly the only one these days to feel that gripping sort of loneliness that plagued him.

After The Snap, and after the first round of panic was over, Gold had to fight tooth and nail to keep the library running. Mayor MIlls wanted to reallocate funds to one of her own pet projects and Gold wanted to keep Belle’s legacy alive. It was hard work, those first few months when people were just beginning to grasp that their vanished loved ones were never returning; when the last drop of hope had died away and the process of mourning had begun, as well as the process of rebuilding. It seemed whatever it was that had happened -- and no one had the definitive answer -- there was no going back.

Benjamin Gold had long since started thinking of time as Before The Snap and After The Snap. He wasn’t the only one to do this as there was a distinct line of Before and After that everyone who wasn’t a frothing nutjob acknowledged. _Before_ was when the world sort of made sense and there was hope. _After_ … well After sucked big, hairy balls.

It was important to Gold for a few reasons. After all, he formally dealt in antiques and now, with the sudden disappearance of so many people -- entire households in some cases -- there was a glut of heirlooms on the market. But that was then, Before The Snap, and this was now, which was decidedly After. His interest in antiques and their histories turned to ash just as Belle did in his arms.

There was nothing left. The destruction of half the population of the entire world turned out to be quite a lot (The Snap had affected the entire universe they learned later on). Especially when half the population included the one person you would have given your life for if given half the chance.

It was too much and Gold was nearly done with everything. Nearly. The only thing that kept him from spiraling into a self destruction that would make Thanos seem like a kitten was the memory of Belle and the fact that she would be appalled if her disappearance was the beginning of his evil origin story. It was a lot of responsibility to lay down on one person, but as she wasn’t there to lodge a complaint, he did it anyway and hardly ever felt guilty about it.

Also, thwarting Mayor Mills was sometimes fun, but even that was wearing thin.

It just proved to him that there wasn’t a God because Belle was gone and that harpy of a woman was still walking around like she owned the town (patently untrue as Gold held the deeds to nearly everything). But he found that he couldn’t blame her overly anymore because Regina had lost her only son during The Vanishing. The weeks Regina Mills spent desperately searching for Henry Mills was something he would never forget even as he was floundering in his own despair. The mother’s loss had nearly sent her over the edge and Gold was certain that if magic existed for real then Regina would have brought down the very stars in her attempt to bring Henry back.

Hell, if it brought people back, Gold would have helped her every step of the way. As it was, he was supposed to be at a meeting with her and the city planners right this very second to finalize plans for the missing people memorial wall (a project Regina had thwarted every turn due to her refusal to admit that her son wasn’t coming back), but he could be late. Probably. It didn’t feel as important to Gold anymore now that he’d won that tiny battle against her. Having an arch nemesis was exhausting and not as interesting as he’d hoped.

He turned left at Main Street, mindful of the endless broken concrete that threatened to trip him up again. He didn’t need another bad ankle. Besides, the new doctor the town had cajoled into setting up shop was still referring to his medical books during exams. Gold was sure the kid would get the hang of it eventually, but until then, he’d stay in one piece, thank you very much.

He eyed the shoreline with interest as he came up to the boarded up library, wondering if maybe today would be a good day to just walk right in and embrace nothingness. It was certainly pretty the way it glittered in the summer sun. There were worse ways to go...

“Look out, Mr. Gold!”

The barely remembered voice of Henry Mills sang like a chorus of angels to his ears -- if a chorus of angels had voices that cracked and deepened at random. He whipped around only to get smacked in the face by a soccer ball. His face exploded with pain and he cupped a hand to his nose, swearing under his breath.

“Yikes! Sorry, Mr. Gold. I told you to look out,” Henry called out, jogging up to fetch the ball from where it rolled under a mailbox. “Are you okay?” he asked eyeing him warily to see if Gold was going to explode in a temper or, better still, bleed all over his shirt. Then Henry’s attention dropped, his face scrunching up in confusion. “When did you get a cane?”

Gold gaped at the boy in wonderous disbelief -- the pain of his nose utterly forgotten as his heart lodged in his throat where it thundered with the implications of what, exactly, it meant that _Henry_ _Mills_ was standing before him looking exactly as he had five years ago, his mop of hair flyng about his face and that stupid striped scarf wrapped around his neck because his mother insisted on dressing him like a character in a children’s book.

Behind him Gold heard the squealing of tires as a car braked hard, then the crunching smash of it busting up Granny’s grape arbor. Gold turned back around and saw Emma Swan emerging from her crashed up yellow bug, her mouth agape as Sheriff Graham stood at the curb, citation book in hand and looking around for the car he was about to ticket.

All about people were appearing out of thin air, stumbling mid-step and turning around as they were searching for their companions who’d been there “just a second before, what the heck?”

A strange noise bothered Gold, a weird sound that was hard for him to place until he realized with a start that there were triple the amount of birds in the sky and was that _Pongo_ trotting up the street with his leash dangling from his harness? Four seconds later Archie Hopper materialized next to his dog and, right after that, Ruby from the diner seemed to fill in out of mid-air just inches away from Emma’s wrecked bug, pouring a hot stream of coffee into a cup that was no longer there.

No matter where Gold turned, Main Street practically flooded with The Vanished popping into existence again. The town wasn’t big, but when you remove half the population and then suddenly put it back again, it tends to get noticed. He was near enough to the docks to hear the unmistakable sound of Leroy splashing into the water and Gold dimly remembered that Leroy’s boat had been sold three years ago. Down at the church some well-meaning novice had begun ringing the massive bell with an enthusiastic zeal that would ordinarily send him off on a tirade, but, for once, Gold was glad of the noise because, for once, its ringing meant joy and hope and --

Belle.

He whipped around to peer up the street towards his own home, his heart furiously pounding in his chest, but, to Gold, it only sounded like her name. Belle. Belle. Belle. BellebellebellebellebelleBELLE.

He stumbled back up the hill towards his house, his expensive shoes slapping against the street in a disjointed, hobbled run, willing his ankle to hold out for the half hour it would take him to run back home. He felt like he could fly, but his leg was making itself known in an immediate sort of way. Gold would have swam through lava if it meant Belle was waiting for him at home. Nevertheless, he was grateful when, at the end of the second block and he was wondering if he’d have a heart attack before he even reached his house, Marco pulled over, barely stopping the ancient truck long enough for Gold to clamor in before punching the gas just as soon as the door slammed shut.

“I can’t believe it, Mr. Gold!,” the old man shouted, slapping the steering wheel with the palm of his hand, his face wet with joyful tears. “They’re coming back! I’m going up to my old workshop to see if Augie is there. That was the last place I saw him.”

It struck Gold, then, how quiet Marco had been After The Snap and now he felt sort of bad for not thinking of the old man. Augie was Marco’s grandson and only living family.

“I’ll drop you off at your house, yeah?” Marco continued, mid-sniffle. “You got someone there?”

Gold nodded. “Belle,” he murmured, breathing her name out loud for the first time in five years.

Marco looked startled for a minute. “The librarian?” he asked, astonished.

Gold nodded quite aware of how he looked and how much Belle was loved in the town and how much he was not.

“Well, that explains the library thing you got going on,” Marco said, quietly. He turned the corner just then and Gold could just see his house at the end of the block, looming over everything on the highest hill in the county and Gold suddenly wondered what he’d been compensating for all those years ago, but just as suddenly as that thought came, it disappeared as Marco pulled up at the curb with a heavy lurch and Gold hopped out, giving the man a genuine smile.

“Thank you, Marco,” he said, sincerely. “I hope you find Augie well.”

“Tell Miss French I said hello.” Marco called back, raising a hand before putting the truck in gear and rattled off, sending up a bloom of blue exhaust behind him like a fluffy tail of a slowly vanishing cheshire cat.

Gold was alone now, and nervous. Mrs. Spencer was standing by her mailbox staring in confusion towards the town and the ringing bells, five-year old mail clutched to her chest. He didn’t stop to explain things to her, but he hobbled up his yard, cursing the way the ground sloped.

The door was locked and his hands shook as he tried to fit his key in, but finally everything clicked and he slapped it open with the flat of his hand.

He tried calling her name, but his voice decided that was the perfect moment to take a vacation. So he wasted no time in running up the stairs, hauling himself up by the bannister hand over hand until he reached the landing on the second floor and the door to his bedroom was just there to the left at the end of the hall. Another door.

It felt so unfair to have all these barriers between them still, but instead of kicking it in, he quietly turned the handle with a trembling hand, bracing himself for disappointment.

If Belle wasn’t there then he really would just walk into the sea this time. He meant it.

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he pushed the door open. Then he slowly opened his eyes and looked.

The pent-up breath wooshed out of him and he nearly collapsed and died and regenerated right there in relief. She was there. Belle. Was there. She’d come back and everything was abso-fucking-lutely perfect and even if she never spoke to him again, he’d only be a little bit hurt because at least she was alive and not gone and he was going to damned grateful for everything from now on because Belle French was sitting up in his bed with the duvet held up to her chest by her lovely arms, bare shoulders peeking out and the love bite he’d given her still fresh and vivid against the pale skin of her neck.

Her head was turned towards his side of the bed, looking at it in a daze, but when the door creaked open, she turned towards him, brightening up as he stumbled in. She held out a hand at him, urging him to come closer with a sultry smile and he obeyed as he always did. As he always would.

He dropped the cane at his feet then fell to his knees at hers, placing his head in her lap, shuddering uncontrollably while she stroked the hair back from his face. Her smile softened with bewilderment, but she waited patiently until he felt like he could meet her gaze. Had her eyes always been that shade of blue? Was her hair always this soft? Her skin that warm? How could he have forgotten those details?

She tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, her eyes roaming his face curiously before uttering the three words he didn’t know he longed to hear, “Where’ve you been?”


End file.
